The Twilight TwentyFive: Round Two
by mopstyle
Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots written for The Twilight Twenty-Five challenge on LJ: January - March 2010. Characters, genres, universes, and ratings will vary.
1. Alone

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Alone  
Pen name: mopstyle  
Pairing: Edward and Bella  
Rating: M

SMeyer owns any and all things Twilight.

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Bella and Edward had met a thousand times if they had met once. Seeming to run into each other where ever they went, it was unfortunate that they were never alone when it happened. There was always too much company—too much noise. Opportunities came and went, but they always seemed to arise at particularly bad times.

Somehow, each found themselves drawn to this small college town. Small because one couldn't go two days without encountering the same face at least twice. Each denizen was committed to their routine and each pretended to mind their own business. Surely, up to twelve students were intimately crammed into two stories worth of bare carpet and bad partitions. For Bella, the town itself didn't matter, she was just running. For Edward, it was easy to disappear here, even if that wasn't exactly what he was after.

Edward was fortunate enough to have rather quiet housemates. At thirty-four, he may have been the youngest resident. His one room apartment, messy with neglect, faced south. He had one closet, one small fridge, no private bathroom and a view into the dismal wood to the north—one of the last undeveloped areas in the city. It was rare to glimpse much nature here. Abandoned downtown renewal and an ever dwindling employment rate had all but laid this city to waste. Not so rare though, were the conspicuous parking lot drug deals or street side altercations. Though he didn't feel in much danger himself, Edward walked taller and with haste.

The intersection was teeming with newly twenty-one year old's screaming into liquor stores and dodgy locals, asking for change. Puddles lazed against curbs and the light sheen left by an afternoon's rain was content to glaze the pavement and trees. Frankenstein Victorians lined the streets, ready and willing to house the young learners new to town. A silver Acura was haphazardly parked across a lawn. Broken sidewalks crossed gravel driveways pitted from overuse and ill repair. Edward trodden through his days, and this day in particular, constantly lonely, but rarely by himself. He kept a distance from his co-workers and rarely made eye contact with anyone. Never sure if he was coming or going, he lived like a boarder, ate at dreadful diners, and had at least three whiskeys a day. Work, home, drink, sleep. In that order.

He wasn't fond of actually being alone. It made him uneasy. The recent swirling in his stomach was a sign to him that he was running out of time in this city too quickly. The inevitable packing and leaving behind of his possessions was on his mind a lot. He'd stayed here longer than most places. He grew up here, had some roots, a bit of family, but no real reason to stay. Also nothing to leave for.

_There are as many women here as anywhere_, he said to himself as he walked slowly to dinner. _There is the cute-ish attendant girl at the hospital, and the plump, anxious one at the funeral home. Both had looked at you differently than most girls did, though neither compare to her. _

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Bella had no idea who Edward was, but the first time he walked into the diner, her belly flipped. He was tall, unassuming, quiet. She got hot and her face turned red. Very aware that his eyes were locked on her, she glanced at herself in the window, pulled her stomach taut, and remembered to breathe.

She had more than enough confidence in nearly every situation. None of it had her back this time. It was 7.13am, March 14. Chilly and wet outside, the shop was quiet, save a few smokers coughs and a distorted bass line. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to smell him or get too close to him. He sat at the bar, three feet from where Bella was standing. His hands were fisted, side by side, knuckles just barely touching—pale tattooed fingers against the dark stone counter top. And there it was, the aroma of cigarettes and hint of a minty mouthwash. He smelled sweet, like honey, but thick like milk and sweat. She licked her lips and asked if he wanted coffee.

But Bella could barley get the word out.

Edward pulled his knit cap down a bit and said plainly, but softly, "to go."

His voice made her dizzy, and she was suddenly aware that she had never before encountered anyone that had made her feel this way.

His eyes were a startling green. She could tell he wanted to look at her, but was afraid to—like he'd stumbled upon something he wasn't sure he was supposed to have seen. How badly Edward wanted to say something, anything, but his lips failed. Cheeks flushed, he accepted the coffee, put a five down on the counter and walked out.

As it turns out, Bella and Edward had many friends in common, though Bella doubted he knew of her. He became more consistent with his morning coffees, eventually spreading out to an occasional lunch, then a weekly dinner. They developed a private acquaintance. Bella knew not to take it too far. Smiles and sharing a friendly 'good morning' or 'good evening' were one thing, but gazing at him while he wasn't looking only made her wither with impossibility. Her restraint was failing her miserably. In a clear minds eye she could see their skin, glistening and rounded, their bodies hooked together. No matter how she tried, she couldn't shake it off. _Just keep the bar between you_, she thought. _Keep anything between you. _

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Dimly lit street lights and liquor store signs dotted Edward's path—a well worn avenue into an all too familiar moonless night. Autumn coming cast a chill in the air he wasn't dressed for. He missed the mountains, the wilderness. One could hike all day without encountering another human—warring with the solidarity, but at peace inside. There were nothing but flat, gray days here, but when the clouds were large and well defined—dark topped with light on the horizon—Edward could almost convince himself that the hills were in the distance.

What little sunshine there had been was fading fast this evening. Edward could just make out the silhouette of the red Chevy truck she drove parked on the side of the diner. His heart beat a few extra times in anticipation, but he was ashamed that it did so. Yes, he knew what vehicle she drove, though he'd never seen her drive. Recognizing so much about her, yet so little, made him feel like a stalker. Considering all the unintended run-ins, he was sure, as he walked into the diner, that she was becoming suspicious of his activities.

She was everywhere. The diner, of course, but also the bar, the grocery store, the coffee shop. Just walking down the street he would see her. He would drive by and wave meagerly, she would always wave back. B, her name tag said, nothing more, just B.

The only diner he preferred was the one she waited at, but he didn't like to focus on her too often. He knew he would never man up and talk to her. It was best to leave it alone, smile, tip large. He would often remind himself to not hope, too much, that the shimmer in her eye when she smiled at him was anything other than a reflection.

Edward sat at the bar, on a torn, red stool bolted to the floor. The smoking section. When the blonde waitress called Anna started in his direction, he was disappointed. This would be a quick dinner. He wouldn't linger over coffee, just watching B work. Her shapely frame was taut under her jeans. The apron she wore bit into the flesh just above her waistband. It made him jealous. He lamented that they couldn't be alone. He thought of what he might say if they were. Nothing good enough came to mind. He would bore her and she would leave. He thought of what it would feel like to run his palm from the top of, to the small of her back—her skin hot and soft under his. He wondered at how she would smell if his face were inches from her neck.

"Hello," the blonde said, eying him suspiciously. "What can I get for ya?"

"BLT on rye, fries, coke," Edward said, not even looking at the menu.

He ate in silence, frustrated for letting himself wish for this girl. He'd all but sworn off women after the last one. What a disappointment that had been. You try to be the nice guy, not push things too fast. Then before you know it, she's sleeping with your best friend. When Edward got his hopes up, they were almost always massacred by rejection.

Single this time for almost six years, Edward had resigned that he would be alone forever. The unevenly knotted string of drunken nights and mercy fucks had kept the monster at bay, for now. If he kept himself busy, it was easy to not be too lonely; easy not to dwell on mistakes and opportunities long passed. What woman would want a shy, timid guy who transports dead bodies anyway? How creepy was that?

Edward dragged on his cigarette deeply and stubbed it out in the tray. He hadn't noticed his tab had been delivered by the blonde. Wishing he had brought a jacket with him, Edward made his way to the cashier.

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Bella saw him slide up from the bar and head to the counter. She winked at Anna, her co-worker. "I've got this one," she whispered and smirked. As she stepped up to the register, she felt the presumptuous blush flowing through her cheeks. He was looking around absently or looking away quickly, Bella wasn't sure. Gripping a twenty in his left hand, he tapped it lightly against the glass. His fingers were long, thin, and somewhat crooked through the middle and top. They were clean and slightly trembling, but strong looking. _That twenty doesn't stand a chance... neither would I_, Bella thought and smiled again.

"Was everything alright?" she asked.

"Yes, fine," he returned nervously. He smiled, trying not to grin too widely. She made his hands sweat and he shifted his weight as she counted back the change. He couldn't bear to just stand there like a fool.

"Thanks. Have a good night," she suggested.

Here was his chance, he could tell her what bar he was going to and maybe, just maybe, he would see her there again. He could buy her a drink, learn her name, tell her his.

"You too," he mumbled and turned for the door. Bella watched him leave. She watched him walk down the street, only breaking her gaze when his shrinking figure was too tiny to recognize. Returning to her work, she looked forward to maybe running into him later. It seemed their paths crossed often.

Perhaps it was the stars setting up a fateful encounter or it was just finally time. They were both, later that night, walking somewhere between drunk and sober, between Ballard and Cross. They saw something shiny out of the corner of their eyes. It was far off, down a block and on the corner. Sparkling like moonlight on the water, it was beautiful. Bending and wavering, it was distressing, like broken glass on the side of the road.

Edward was walking toward home. He was thinking of that bit of shine, that dreadful lure. He coached himself as he drew near. _Go see what it is_, he thought.

And there she stood. Out of nowhere, like she always was. She made him think of words he didn't have definitions for. She seemed to trail a mist, a cloud of dust, something. And then it was gone. As he walked toward her, she looked up, smiled and waved, and waited for him to meet her.

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**Thank you to Revrag, Sobriquett, and Bella'sExecutioner for pre-reads. **


	2. Apathy

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Apathy  
Pen name: mopstyle  
Pairing: Rose  
Rating: T

SMeyer owns any and all things Twilight.

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Her blood dripped on the carpet and as much as I wanted to taste it, I could have cared less that it spilled. Everyone screaming and jumping to_ save the human_. I almost laughed at the irony. It's what she deserved.

I folded my arms under my breasts, sneering and turning my nose up. I wasn't fool enough to breathe. Edward carried her to Carlisle in a panic, leaving the rest of us standing around to wait. Emmett had Jasper around the waist, restrained. He looked at me, some ridiculous request in his gaze.

I rolled my eyes. "What?"


	3. Awe

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Awe  
Pen name: mopstyle  
Pairing: --  
Rating: T

SMeyer owns any and all things Twilight.

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I couldn't escape. I didn't want to. Somewhere far below this stone room there was a deep rumble. The building seemed to shake and surge with the breath of humans—their sweat and fear penetrated every atom. I could already taste them.

"Follow me."

As we descended, my eyes stung and I could feel venom flowing through my body. Terrified, yet willing to obey, I was eager to see what lay beyond the next corner.

Their sweet, ripe stench nearly overwhelmed me as we closed ourselves inside with them—a scheduled slaughter. They screamed and I had never before seen such beauty.

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NattyDread keeps me from fail. Heart her. Nikkijoy pre-read. XD


	4. Morose

**The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Morose  
Pen name: mopstyle  
Pairing: E/B  
Rating: T**

**SMeyer owns any and all things Twilight.  


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**A/N: Thank you to nattydread and Frenchbeanz for beta, and to detroitangel for her hot googledoc'ing fuckery and the soup. Love you. **

**This is an update in support of the Fic Bridge's Reader Appreciation Day. Without you, we would be nothing... and crying 'cos no one liked us. ;) xoxo  


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_This is not happening, _I thought to myself as I concentrated on the scent of the decaying flora that cushioned my head. It wasn't a proper pillow, obviously, but it did the trick. My eyes were open, pretending to see the things I imagined were surrounding me. Trees, bugs, any sort of wild animal could have been stalking around me in the darkness; I would never know. I couldn't actually see anything anymore. It had been hours since I had first laid down and all I had was the memory of the forest floor before the sun had disappeared. Well, that wasn't the _only _memory. I remembered his hand as it pathetically held my arm. I remembered his cold lips as they pressed against my forehead in pity, without even a hint of the affection that I thought he once felt for me.

I recalled his eyes as they tried to focus on something other than my face. They were almost as dark as night as he pulled away from me, when his words tore my heart out. "I don't want you to come with me." And then the searing pain was there again, the pain that shot through me when I realized he was leaving. I lay there, wrapping one arm tightly around my stomach, trying to remember what my soul had felt like before that spiky weight of loss had been added. Distractedly, I held up my hand, noticing how my nail polish matched the pitch black sky. I let my arm fall back to the earth with a sobbing laugh.

It was abundantly clear that I had only been one of his "distractions" and he made sure to let me know that he would have no difficulty whatsoever finding another. I remembered trying to follow him. That had to have been the most futile thing I had ever done. Though it only took seconds for me to realize that he was gone for good, I still ran after him. Then I was falling. I don't remember much after that. There were some dreams; strange, happy, foreign pictures flashed behind my eyes that didn't have any correlation to the torn emotions I was feeling. They proceeded to only confuse me further.

Was I really here?

Was Edward really gone?

Was that blood I smelled?

There were also strange sounds. I thought I heard voices far off in the distance, then swore they were right next to me. Sounds like growling and loud sniffing came and went as I slipped into and out of consciousness. Maybe I was making them up because, as I lay still, soaking up the night, my agony and my anger evened out and morphed into a throbbing void. Everything that I thought I had experienced seemed to be part of a dream. There were no people walking about, no dogs hounding or hunting nearby.

I was alone in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, and I could not have cared less. The ground beneath me was cool, and I couldn't tell if I was damp or dry. I dug my fingers into the earth and brought up sticks and rocks and worms. I was just going through the motions of being conscious—numb—not really understanding or feeling anything. I opened my fists, letting the mud drop. It caked in between my fingers and stained my clothes.

I closed my eyes, noting the darker hue behind my lids. It was a blackness so different than the sky. The canopy held secret openings and luscious densities that offered up dark and drab greens, blues, and greys. I hadn't noticed—hadn't been paying attention—and the abrupt absence of color was startling and made me nervous. I blinked trying to cry, but wanting only to scream.

There had been _so much_ that I hadn't been paying attention to...

He had never wanted me. He certainly didn't want me like I wanted him. Forever. Forever was a reality for one of us, but a fantasy to the other. Only _he_ really understood what it meant. I could now imagine the disgust he must have felt when he thought of me at his side for the rest of eternity. How had I deluded myself into thinking that his intentions were as true as mine? How had I managed to misinterpret everything he had ever said? Had every touch been a mere curiosity? An experiment in restraint? A big joke on Bella?

As I lay there, I had a feeling that more time had passed than I'd realized. I had been searching for the moon, but perhaps there wasn't one. I shivered as the cold seeped through my clothes. As more of my situation became clear—I was in a dangerous place, one that I might not make it out of alive—the more aware I grew of my physical being. I was lost. As I shifted my body, I noticed that I was hurt. My knee throbbed—not in a permanently damaged way, just in a "you fell, you idiot" kind of way. One of my palms was skinned; I could tell from the deep stinging that radiated inward and the faint scent of blood in the air. It made my stomach turn and then made me think of Edward.

I stopped my movements—they only caused me more pain—and focused on his beautiful face. I wasn't going to deny that I still found him beautiful, even if he had left me here to rot, to die, to be alone for the rest of my life. He was a magnificent creature, and I could appreciate his form. I wanted to be wrapped around it, wanted to feel his cold skin deep in my warm body, wanted to touch him as reverently as I imagined he would touch me, but those thoughts were only trouble. I faded into blackness as I remembered his cold, unyielding lips on mine. I would have given anything just then for the warmth that he would never provide. His frigid lips and shielded eyes kept so many secrets—secrets he never intended to share. I drifted away with a heavy breath and slept again on the forest floor.

Sometime later, the pounding rain woke me up. I was startled as the fat droplets hit my face and soaked my clothes, and my body reacted. My head jerked to the side before the rain could find its way into my nose and eyes. It was silent for a long time before I heard them calling my name. The sound was muted and muffled and I didn't recognize the voice, but I knew it was my name and I tried to answer. I was cold and miserable now, and wanted nothing more than to go home. I could mourn his leaving—the six months he pretended to love me—just as well in a comfortable bed with a blanket or two surrounding me. My throat, though, would not cooperate. Every sound I tried to make was lost somewhere inside me—eaten alive by the void.

I covered my face from the rain and resigned to be lost for good.


	5. Patience

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Patience  
Pen name: mopstyle  
Pairing: --  
Rating: T

SMeyer owns any and all things Twilight.

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We were somewhere on a road I didn't know. Seemed before midnight. I remember not knowing if it was your driveway or his, though I was supposed to. I looked down at my hands, thin fingers shredded at the tips. Edward never looked at me the way you did. Low down on the swing, we'd spin. We'd be strangers if it weren't for him.

So much time has passed. I've not left this porch. He comes every day, but it's your face that's haunting me. I've muffled out my sounds, my screams. They do nothing more than occupy my mouth.


	6. Fragments

The Twilight Twenty-Five  
Prompt: Fragments  
Pen name: mopstyle  
Pairing: Edward and Bella  
Rating: M

SMeyer owns any and all things Twilight.

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I swore I'd never come, but my stubbornness must have tapered a bit in my "old age". Relying on such a fickle and disliked trait can really get tired and I guess I was close to accepting my fate. Carlisle liked to rub it in that I was turning thirty this year. I'd laugh, har-har, telling him that you're only as old as you feel—something he should have been telling me. I refused to be bothered by it... outwardly. On the inside, I was dying.

I almost laughed as I pulled into the parking spot. That small amusement didn't stop me from wishing I was Russian or something and that my English skills weren't really up for this. There were no funny words left in any language. Cringing, I watched them file in the front door and thought of a million other places I could be.

I didn't want to see her or talk to them. She was my lover, best friend. I remembered waking up next to her every day, her hand lightly encased in mine. The world would fall away around us and we would float, revolving together where no one else could see. We were secret from the very start. No one knew we were together until we were apart.

I walked into the room and the hushed voices dried up. I closed my eyes, wanting nothing more than to run—run away and run to her. She was my heart, my life, my blood. The floor swayed and I knew how this would end. I would see her skin, feel her here, and I would die.

She would always say, "Edward, the piece that fits with you is the piece I have with me," and it was words like that that I wanted tattooed on my skin. I could hear her voice on the wind and the tears that fell were ice fucking cold on my cheeks. I batted at them, walking up to where she lay.

She stole it, took it away. And was I to follow her to keep that piece? Because there was now a huge fucking hole in me and I choked when I felt the empty air blow right through it. Her soft hair, soft breast, was where I wanted to bury myself. Fuck digging her a grave. What about me? Our love was a day that was never supposed to end.

I wanted it back, the way it was, the way we were. Two days ago that blood pumped. Two days ago that body lived and breathed for and around me, and two days ago was the last of her I would ever see. They tried to get me to move closer, to witness her there, to touch her face and feel her hair.

But it wasn't her anymore—it wasn't life. There was no Bella left to love. She had left me, left us. She'd grown cold and tired of the world. THIS IS NOT HOW IT ENDS.

I fucking SWORE I would never love her. I swore she wouldn't be what I needed, what would mock me and _complete_ all the things that you never think can be. She did. And there was never a fucking mistake. From the very first minute we met, she was inside me and we were soaring.

One step forward. "Edward, shh. Come here, the stars are bright. It's time. When you see one, close your eyes and make a wish." Her voice, like wind, like snow, is so light and then it's gone.

One step back. "You won't fall. Don't worry." Bright smile, pink tongue. Fingers dancing down along my arms. She held on so tightly and then I spun. She squealed in delight. I laughed.

"You make it easier. I would fall all day long, if your arms would soften the landing."

This is not how it ends.

Stuck, rooted where I was, I tried to breathe in but her memory assaulted me. Fuck memories. She couldn't be one. She was my reality. The idea of closing that box and never seeing her again was splitting me in two, in three. Pieces were surely falling away; my skin had to be peeling off right in front of everyone.

"Edward?"

My mother? I couldn't tell. Hands around my elbows. Turn. Walk. Sit. Someone else was speaking.

I heard Bella.

"Kiss me, Edward. Kiss me like you'll never get the chance again."

I did and I did and I did. Every time I had her I made sure that she would leave with only me on her mind and only the memory of my skin on hers. Did we know? How? Was it possible that we felt our time would be short? No. There was no way. I wouldn't be dripping and dying and puking this pain up if I had known that she would be gone from me so soon.

I had her.

She wanted me.

But she didn't want it badly enough? Why would she want to die? It was all too much. Someone picked me up the way they set me down and pushed my gumby body toward the casket—coffin—death box. I wanted to climb inside.

Then I was on my hands and knees, retching and spitting onto the carpet. I tried to say that I wanted to go, too. "I want to go with you."

I opened my eyes. Her tiny, shadowed face smiled back at me. I collapsed onto her. Her silky legs wrapped around my waist and I split her with my body. She cried and clawed and I held her like I never would again. Whispers and love and warmth and wet.

Her fragility was overwhelming and I trembled as I held her. "There is no one, Edward—no one on this earth but you." She was so close, yet she seemed to flicker in and out of focus and suddenly she was my ghost.

"Ask me, Bella."

"Stay forever."

"You're mine. I'll never leave."

"But it will end."

"No."

Yes. It did. No one knew us and now, instead of smiles and hugs I got sharp eyes and coughs. Maybe we knew, maybe we always knew. That was why we kept it secret, why we devoured when we could.

She waved and opened her hand slowly through the dirty, sunlit air. "Nothing's really here, Edward." Her eyes were dark and distant. "Nothing holds us up but this little bit of dust."

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Thank you to nattydread, detochkina, and fngrcufs for pre-reads and beta. Hearts forever.


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